I had this thought “now bound with bones” today while getting out of the car. Then it went out of my head while I continued listening to the adventures of intrepid questing folk and working on my latest project.
Once flexible, now bound with bones
where once fingers went flying round
go smaller stuttering reaching.
The mirror looks unfamiliar
while mind revels in laughing youth
how then to reconcile this truth
that while the physical reflects
the pile of years, dreams shout and dance.
Working I am without a year
but some remind me every chance:
nice to see someone “of our age”
what have I done that they could not
other than not make age and death
the center of my life each day.
